on the upside down
paper plate dented
and empty cups
frozen in the middle
of a step
of a dance
brought to a stop
by the ending of the breeze
Unfriendly clouds heavy
with distaste for what they ground
under their wheels
thickening with the belts that wrap
around their sunrises and sunsets
darker grey
shallower black
Dropped in to say
after they leave
behind their echoing
denunciations
after they leave
a residue in the eyes
always there
for suspecting
suspecting
Objects steeped in pouches
carried to terms misused
unfortunate incidental roads
sinking into the wasteland
to appear again
in the next dead end
- Max Stoltenberg
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